Mischa, Petite Celui de Lune
by Ariadne - Champion of Life
Summary: Well, it's drama and G for now. :) This is a SotL/Hannibal fic, actually more a Hannibal fic. It takes place around fifteen years after Hannibal ends. If you've read Hannibal, this isn't the Mischa you're thinking about. If you haven't, don't read thi


Pain, such as Clarice had never felt before, ripped through her abdomen. She screamed, in agony. Her newly-dyed dark red hair was plastered to the sides of her face with sweat. She was glad she decided this persona would have her blue eyes, because her eyes felt like they would fall out of her head anyhow.  
"Come on, Michelle, you're almost there." The doctor at the end of the table where her feet were propped up said. "Just one more push."  
The man kneeling by Clarice's head was positively glowing. "Just one more push and this will all be over," he whispered in her ear. His hair was a light brown, and he had green contacts in. Clarice screamed once more and then she pushed once more with all her might. She closed her eyes, exhausted. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, of the green eyes and brown hair, leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Beautifully done, my dear." Clarice smiled drowsily at him.  
"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron?" the doctor announced as the nurse handed him a small, squirming bundle. "Congratulations," he grinned. "You have a daughter."  
***  
  
Ma chère Maman,  
Well, Mama, have the lambs stopped screaming?   
  
Clarice shook her head, smiling. Her daughter.  
  
I was just reading a letter that Papa sent to you, and that is how he opened it. What does that mean?  
I certainly hope this finds you well, in good spirits and health. School is wonderful, and France in springtime is quite lovely. No one suspects anything. And why should they?  
  
Somewhere within the last sentence, her daughter's laugh came back to her, and with it a pain like a searing knife to her gut. 'God, I miss her,' she thought, and the thought didn't surprise her.  
  
There is nothing to suspect.  
My classes are all going well. I especially like learning Czech and Gaelic. I couldn't believe the school had two languages that I didn't know. I'm very glad they did, though.  
Of course, I'm also taking a choral program. I'm thrilled that we're singing the Creation for the spring concert. Mama, I get to sing Gabriel! Do you think you might come to the concert? It's in May. It would be wonderful if you could, it seems like I haven't seen you in forever.  
  
'It seems that way to me too, honey…'  
  
I'm also writing to Papa, asking if he could come too. I'm not sure if I should tell the headmistress you are my parents if you come, or not.   
Well, Mama, I must go. The only time I get to write letters now is very late at night, and I have an early morning tomorrow. Please respond if you have the time, the address to respond to is enclosed. I love you, Mama.  
Bises,  
Etoile Dyan Dulune  
  
Clarice sighed. Her daughter had been taught well by her Papa. 'We were both taught well by her Papa…' Clarice thought with a wry smile. Her daughter even signed her letters with the French pseudonym her father decided on. He thought it fit her perfectly. 'Star Dyan of the Moon,' he had explained. 'Dyan being the loveliest of the names taken from Diana, the Roman moon goddess.' He picked most of her names, for he had such a lovely way of explaining them. Her 'real' name, the one she thought of her daughter as, was a subject of agreement between them.  
Mischa Hannah Lecter. They both agreed that Hannah was not a good first name for her, and it actually was Clarice that suggested they should name her after Hannibal's sister that had been murdered at a very young age. Hannibal had been a bit hesitant at first, but then decided that it would be all right.  
What was this about a concert? Well, her daughter had always been very musically inclined, thanks to her father's teaching she could play the harpsichord, piano, claichord, and violin. She was also a very skilled coloratura soprano, even though she had never had lessons. In fact, one of the songs she sang, La Lune, was the inspiration for her French pseudonym. Hannibal delighted in teaching her things, he thought it was wonderful that he had this much power over her. And he loved her.   
It had been a year since she had seen Hannibal. She thought of him as her husband, but there had been no formal ceremony, so technically he wasn't her husband. They had mutually agreed that they wouldn't live together all of the time. But now this about a concert, what if Hannibal and she both went? Would they be Mischa's parents? Or rather Mr and Mrs Dulune? Perhaps she should try and contact Hannibal.   
'Yes,' Clarice thought lazily, looking out over the beach adjacent to her apartment. Memories of the few years she and Hannibal had shared together danced through her head. 'That's exactly what I will do...' 


End file.
